


Connected

by Mugglemama



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Erotica, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Heterosexual Sex, Post-War, Resolved Sexual Tension, Romance, The Quidditch Pitch: Erotic Couplings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-10
Updated: 2010-06-10
Packaged: 2018-10-27 17:23:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10813452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mugglemama/pseuds/Mugglemama
Summary: Ron and Hermione have always shared a special bond, now their connection is complete.





	Connected

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

  
Author's notes:

This was originally written for hp_canon_fest on Livejournal.  My recipient requested a detailed scene from both characters' perspectives relating to their first intimate encounter, with a some Muggle world interaction and "maybe some dancing."  

This would not have been possible without my brilliant friends, betas, and cheerleaders!  **Undercloakkept** saved this fic and my sanity (once again)!

 

 

* * *

 

Ron Weasley wiggled his bare feet into the scratchy carpet as he stood staring out his hotel room window.  He had never seen as many lights as those twinkling 20 stories below on Sydney Harbour.  Of course there were many things he had never seen before that the past several weeks had shown him.

 

He had never seen his mother weak; he had never seen his father punch a wall in anger; he had never seen Charlie cry; he had never seen George and Percy hug; he had never seen Hermione come.

 

_Hermione_.

 

She was the reason he now stood in some posh Muggle hotel on the other side of the world overlooking a city he never thought he'd see.  

 

There was no formal declaration, no grand announcement; they just suddenly _were_.  It seemed as if they had always been together and only now realized it.  She held him and cried with him that first night after Fred's death.  He stroked her hair and wiped her tears at the too-many funerals they attended.  When she announced that she needed her parents, there was never a doubt he'd go with her.

 

They had arrived in Australia by taking several Portkeys through multiple destinations.  It had barely been sunrise when they took the Floo from the Burrow to the Ministry of Magic, and now he was watching the Sydney night sky.  The watch on his wrist read 11:00 A.M. but the glowing contraption on the bedside table insisted it was 8:00 P.M.

 

Their last connection had been a Floo trip from the Australian Ministry Headquarters in Canberra to a satellite office here in Sydney.  They were ushered into a waiting Muggle car by a disgruntled Undersecretary sent to meet them; he apparently had dinner plans and didn't appreciate being kept waiting.  Kingsley had assured Ron and Hermione that the Grangers – technically still Mr. and Mrs. Wilkins – were here in Sydney.  He sent them ahead to work with the Australian Ministry and once the Grangers’ exact situation was known, Kingsley would personally oversee the restoration of their memories and their return to England.

 

Ron was relieved that Kingsley was taking an active role in assisting Hermione's parents.  He certainly didn't trust himself to work that kind of magic successfully – not for something so important.  He wasn't really sure he trusted Hermione right now either, to be honest; her emotions were running too high.

 

She hadn't spoken much during their journey to Sydney, mostly just small smiles and brief polite responses.  She barely let go of him all day, though, clutching his hand as if he were her lifeline.  This was the exact opposite of the nervous bundle of energy she had been two nights before, as she flitted around her parents' house like a snitch avoiding capture.  She was single-minded in her efforts to make the house perfect for her parents' return.  

 

Ron had eventually pulled her to the sofa and, with an arm around her shoulder, said simply, "It's all going to be all right."  That seemed to be all it took for Hermione to finally give in to the emotions she had been trying to hold at bay.  She curled into him and cried as he comforted her.  When her tears finally had subsided, she reached up and gave him a tender kiss, which quickly grew in passion and intensity.  

 

Before he could even register what was happening, Ron was lying on the sofa with Hermione straddling him as they ground against one another.  Her hands fisted in his hair as she rubbed herself frantically against the erection straining his trousers.  One of Ron's hands gripped her arse tightly, while the other snaked under her shirt and squeezed her breast through her bra, something he had only done on one other occasion.  Hermione suddenly released his tongue, which she had been feverishly sucking.  With her lips barely touching his, she moaned his name before tilting her head back and shuddering.  Ron had never seen a sight as amazing as Hermione in that moment: her brows furrowed, her mouth open in a silent moan of ecstasy, her elegant neck stretched before him.  He lifted his mouth to hers and they kissed fiercely, as he found his own release

 

Afterwards, as they lay together, Ron kissed her forehead tenderly and said softly, "I love you."  The relief he felt was palpable when she buried her face into his neck and, with a gentle kiss to his jaw, whispered, "I love _you_." 

 

As Ron looked at the large bed in his hotel room, he wondered what it would be like to experience that same passion – _without clothes_.  Shaking his head to remove such thoughts from his mind, he began looking for a distraction while he waited for Hermione to finish 'freshening up' in her hotel room, which she said was 'connected' – he didn't know what it was connected to and didn't want to seem the fool, so he didn't ask.

 

Ron eyed the large television and looked around for a controller thingy like the one Hermione had shown him at her house when she had explained to him all about the 'telly.'  He still didn't understand exactly how it worked, but he was fascinated by the Muggle life reflected in the little box.  

 

He located the contraption Hermione had told him was like a Muggle wand that controlled the pictures and noises from the box.  He waved it at the television but nothing happened.  He turned it around and tried again. Still nothing.  Finally taking a closer look, he noticed a red button that said, "Power."  He pressed it and suddenly the room was filled with loud noises as the screen came to life.  He didn't know what the barmy Muggles were doing in the box, but it appeared to be a sport of some sort.  Ron wanted to see what else was on, so he started randomly pressing buttons.  Apparently he was not changing the pictures in the box, but rather only the sound – everything kept getting louder and louder.  

 

As he struggled with the controls, Ron heard a faint knocking noise followed by his name being called.  He finally found the button on the controller that turned off the television.

 

"Hermione?" he called.  "Is that you?"

 

"It's me, Ron!  Open the door!"

 

He threw the telly 'wand' onto his bed and raced to open the front door of his hotel room.  He was confused not to find Hermione waiting in the hall.  He was even more confused to still hear her knocking and calling his name.

 

"Hermione?  Where are you?"

 

"Here, Ron, open up!"  He returned to his room to hear her banging – from the inside of his wardrobe? 

 

"What are you doing in my wardrobe?" he asked, staring quizzically at the door.

 

"It's not the wardrobe; it's my room.  We're connected.  Just open up, I can't from this side – it's locked."

 

"Can't you use your wand?"

 

"I would if there was a knob or lock on this side.  For heavens sake, open up, all right?"

 

"Fine, fine... no need to get shirty."  Ron fumbled with the lock and pulled the little hooked handle.  Standing on the other side of the door was Hermione, with an exasperated expression.

 

"How'd you get in there?" Ron asked.

 

"It's my room. I told you it was connected."

 

"Yeah, well, I didn't know what it was connected to," he admitted sheepishly.

 

"To your room, silly," she said with a smile.

 

"Wicked." 

 

*~*

 

Sometimes I swear Hermione's smile is more contagious than spattergroit.  Merlin only knows how long I've been standing in the doorway between our rooms, grinning at her like a lunatic.  She finally breaks my trance by asking, "May I come in?"

 

"Er, uh... yeah, of course."  Smooth as ever, I step aside to allow her into my room.  I look quickly into her room and see that it has two beds; they both look smaller than the one in mine.  My stomach does a little clench (of regret, maybe) when I think about us not sharing a room.  Something a little lower gives a twitch of interest when I think about us sharing much more than a room – like a bed for example... or a shower.

 

"This is certainly a nice hotel," she says, taking a slow look around.  I try to concentrate on what she's saying and can't help but feel a little relief when I notice her blush as her eyes linger on the large bed that dominates the room.

 

"Yeah, Kingsley's taking good care of us, I suppose..."

 

"Humph, least the Ministry could do for us..." she grumbles under her breath as she flops down on my bed.  She bounces up and down on my mattress and comments, "Wow, this room is really big..."

 

I'm trying real hard not to watch the way her tits move or notice the rhythmic banging of the headboard against the wall.

 

"Oh, you can have it if you want.  I don't mind."  I wave an arm at the bed. "I've never slept in such a big bed alone before."  Suddenly realising that might not sound right, I attempt to recover. "I mean... I've never slept with anyone... in a bed, or elsewhere for that matter.  My parents, they have a big bed like this and we all used to, you know... um, cuddle."

 

God, I'm such an idiot.

 

Hermione smiles at me and I feel a little less foolish.  "That must have been a very full bed."

 

"You have no idea, ′specially if there was a storm or something... I remember this one time, Fred and G–" 

 

Fred.  

 

Shite.

 

I can feel the tears starting again.  She must think I'm such a tosser, just a crying nancy boy. 

 

*~*

 

I'm off the bed in an instant, my arms around his waist and my face buried in his chest when I see the tears welling in his blue eyes.  I know Ron hates to cry in front of me, he has some archaic notion that 'real men' don't cry; yet I am so touched that he trusts me enough to let me in.  I whisper variations of, "I'm sorry" and "It's all right" and "I'm here" before my own tears overwhelm me. 

 

I'm supposed to be comforting him, but here I am sobbing in his arms.  He runs his large hands over my back; eventually he buries one hand in my hair, massaging my scalp gently and creating warmth that radiates through my body.  It's confusing to me how he can make me feel so protected, yet small and vulnerable at the same time.

 

For once in my life I try to just let myself feel. If there is one universal truth in my life, it is this: Ron Weasley makes me _feel_ more than anyone or anything else.  Those feelings may not always be pleasant, but they are always intense, filling my life with a passion I could not have ever imagined.

 

In this moment I feel nothing but love for the man in my arms.  I feel his steady heartbeat against my cheek and thank God and Merlin and every known deity that he is here, that he is well, that he is mine.

 

Unfortunately I can also feel his pain.  Four weeks can feel like the blink of an eye – just look at how far Ron and I have come in a month – or it can seem an eternity when dealing with the loss of a loved one.  The Weasleys have been nothing but wonderful to me and I would do anything to ease their grief; I wish could do more to help them – help him.  When I tell Ron as much, he pulls back from me and looks at me as though I've gone mad.

 

*~*

 

More?  She said, "I just wish there was _more_ I could do."

 

She's mad, absolutely barking.

 

I pull back to look at her and realize she just doesn't get it.

 

I take her face in my hands – she looks so small and fragile when I do that – my thumbs wipe away what's left of her tears.

 

"Hermione, there is no way I could have survived the past weeks without you... all you've done, for me – for all of us – it's just been, I mean, you've been..."  My voice falters as I try to explain.  "You've been – _you_ – and that's more than enough."

 

She's staring at me with those big brown eyes looking like the waterworks could start any second, her bottom lip quivering as she bites it.  I think I'd do anything she'd ask when she looks at me like this.  I better make damn sure she never finds out.

 

I move my hands to brush back her hair from her face and rest them on her shoulders, burying my fingers in her hair. 

 

"I feel so selfish, taking you away from your family.  They need you..."

 

I lean down and kiss her adorably crinkled forehead.  "I know exactly what my family needs... and that's why I'm here with you."

 

"But–"

 

"You _are_ my family, Hermione.  You're my..."  I struggle to find the right words. _My love. My life. My future wife and mother of my imaginary children_.  Nah, that might scare her.  Hell, it scares me.

 

*~*

 

Oh dear.  He's hesitating.  What's he going to say?  _You're my good friend?  You're my best mate?  You're my_ –

 

"Everything."

 

I wasn't expecting that.  I better make certain I didn't imagine it.

 

"Everything?" I ask.

 

His thumbs are rubbing the sides of my jaw and I feel like I'm being hypnotized.  His mouth curls into that ridiculously sexy lop-sided grin of his, the one that I can never resist.  Note to self: make certain he never figures that out.  Ever.

 

"Don't you see Hermione?  You're it for me."

 

When did his voice get so deep and sexy?

 

"Th-that is... if, if you want me."

 

_If_ I want _him_?

 

He's all I've ever wanted.  I don't even know what to say.

 

So I say nothing.  I let my actions speak for me.

 

*~*

 

_Oomph!_

 

Shite!  She's strong for such a little thing, knocked my arse right onto the bed when she jumped me.  Not that I'm complaining.  Sitting here, with Hermione between my legs, snogging the breath out of me is nothing to complain about.

 

Damn she tastes good, like spearmint or something.  I can't help myself and I grab her arse with both my hands, pulling her closer against me.  I run my hands up under her T-shirt and feel the skin of her back.  She feels so friggin' amazing, so soft and warm.  

 

Oh God, she's kissing my neck.  Ow!  I think she just gave me a love bite.  I'll just have to return the favor.  

 

Mmmmmm... love the sounds she makes when I kiss her.  I move my hands around to her front and slip them slowly over her stomach.  I reckon if she wants me to stop, she'll tell me.  

 

Okay, judging by that moan, she doesn't mind at all.  Her tits, er... breasts, she'd want me to call them breasts, feel fantastic in my hands; my thumbs run over her nipples and she moans even louder.  I can feel them growing harder – just like me.

 

Her hands tug on my hair.  What does she... Oh, she wants me to kiss her mouth.  Brilliant.  Who the hell knew getting your hair pulled could feel so good?

 

Her nails are scratching my back now; they feel so goddamn good... I can't get enough... I just wanna... I need...

 

*~*

 

How easy it is to get lost in him; the feel, the smell, the taste of him.  How can I be lost yet found at the same time?  How can I be expected to think clearly when that delicious mouth of his is doing such wicked things to me?

 

I can feel his breath hot on my neck, his tongue tracing patterns on my skin.

 

"I love you, Hermione," he whispers into my ear, causing me to shiver as he nibbles my earlobe.

 

I moan in response. "Oh God, Ron, me too... so much."

 

From his seated position on the bed, his face is almost level with my breasts and he finally, _finally_ seems to be taking advantage of the situation.  He kisses his way down my body until his face is buried between my breasts.  He has one hand on my bum and the other under my shirt tweaking my nipple through my bra.  He leans in to graze his teeth over my free breast. 

 

Oh my goodness!  I had no idea my nipples were so sensitive.  That feels so incredible...

 

His hand has left my breast to travel along to my back; I can feel his long fingers toying with the clasp of my bra.  Yes!  I can sense that he's hesitant.  He needs some encouragement.

 

*~*

 

I can feel the hooky thing at the back of her bra.  Shit!  I have no idea how to open it.  Should I even try?  Will she hex me if I do?

 

She has her hands in my hair again.  It's almost like she's holding me in place right here at her chest.  Blimey!  I think she likes what I'm doing.

 

"Mmmmm, Ron."

 

Yeah, she definitely likes it.

 

Maybe I could lift her top up more?  I'll just slowly start moving her shirt...

 

_ohgodohgodohgod_

 

I can see her bra; I see nipples!  I see a lot of her I've never seen before.  How can a belly button be so sexy?  I know I'm rambling nonsense into her skin.  I'm fairly sure I told her right tit how much I love her and I _know_ I just confessed to her navel how much I want her.

 

"Yes, Ron... I want–"

 

*~*

 

What in the world just happened?  One moment I'm telling Ron I want him too, ready to give myself to him completely, the next I'm being thrown behind his body as he pulls his wand and trains it at the door.

 

"Ron?"

 

"Shh, someone's in the room."

 

A woman in a hotel uniform appears from the entry hall, just as I pull Ron's wand arm to his side and hopefully out of view.

 

"What are you doing?" I hiss at him.

 

The small woman with an armful of towels lets out a small gasp when she sees the two of us standing by the bed.  "I'm so sorry," she apologises.  

 

"Who are you?" Ron asks, his voice deep and intimidating.  I rather like the sound of it to be honest – even more so if it weren't being directed at a terrified chambermaid.

 

"H-housekeeping," she stammers.  "I knocked... I didn't realise anyone was here.  I can go–"  She turns to leave and I jump in front of Ron.

 

"It's all right," I assure her.  "You can go ahead."  I gesture vaguely around the room.

 

She flashes me a strained smile and goes into the bathroom.

 

"Hermione," Ron whispers fiercely in my ear from behind me.  "What is she doing here?  Are you sure we can trust–"

 

I try to explain to Ron the practice of turndown service.  "She works for the hotel, she's just going to give us fresh towels, tidy the room a bit and make up the bed."

 

"She's going to make us go to bed?  Is there some kind of Muggle curfew or something?"

 

"No, Ron."  I struggle not to laugh at his naiveté.  "She's just going to turn the covers down, maybe leave some chocolate; we're free to go to bed whenever we want."

 

"Oh."  His eyes dart instinctively over my head to the large, rather inviting bed behind me, and he flushes.  I know what he's thinking; I'm thinking it too.  He swallows as if he suddenly has a huge lump in his throat, then he leans forward and says, "So, there'll be chocolate then?"

 

"Mm-hmm" is all I can manage as I stare into his eyes.  Just as I feel his lips on mine I hear the housekeeper make a nervous squeak.  We break apart and, blushing deliciously, Ron mumbles that he needs to use the loo.  I tell him to use the one in my room so we can get out of the way.

 

I watch as he goes through the open door to my adjoining room.  I follow, trying to avoid the knowing smirk from the housekeeper.

 

I notice that Ron didn't close the door to the bathroom all the way, there is a separate room for the toilet, and so he probably didn't think of it.  As I begin to turn away, I realise I can see his back reflected in the large mirror over the sink while he's using the, uh, facilities.

 

Dear me!  He has his shirt lifted up and I can see the freckled skin of his lower back. I remember what that skin feels like.  I've snuck my hand under his shirt on a few occasions, but I've never seen it.  Are those dimples above his bum?     

 

I really should let him have his privacy.  

 

His trousers are already very low on his hips and as they slip even further, I can't pull my eyes from the site of his perfect arse; it's just so, so... bitable.  Did I really just think that?  What's happening to me?

 

*~*

 

I can't believe that even here – halfway round the World – we still get interrupted.  She had started saying something about what she wanted.  Was it me?  Does she want to sha–, er, make love?

 

When I step out of the loo, Hermione barely meets my eyes.  She looks a little flushed but says nothing's wrong when I ask.  I hope things aren't going to be all awkward between us now.  I step closer and take her hand.  I really feel I have to make this right, no more misunderstandings.

 

I hold her hand in mine she gives me _that_ smile, the one only I get to see; it's an unlikely combination of shy and sexy at the same time, like she's thinking something wicked but feels guilty about it.  

 

Once I see that smile, I know everything is going to be okay.  

 

Before either of us can speak, the lady with the towels clears her throat.  We're standing in the doorway between the two rooms and she nods towards Hermione's room.  "Will you be needing service in this room as well?"

 

I move to step back so she can come into the room but Hermione squeezes my hand and tugs me closer to her.  Looking at me, she answers the housekeeper.

 

"No, that won't be necessary.  Thank you."

 

I don't know what the woman says as she leaves; I never take my eyes off Hermione.

 

Does she mean...?  No misunderstandings, I have to ask... 

 

"Look Hermione, I don't wanna cock this up–" Fuck! Bad choice of words – though she _is_ giving me that smile again.

 

"Er, uh... what I mean is..."  Deep breath, I remind myself as I look down at our entwined hands.  "Are you sure?  Do you really wanna–"

 

"Yes, Ron.  Very sure... I want to, I want _you_ – very much."

 

Even I can't misunderstand that statement.  I don't know what to say to her, there's so much running through my mind right now.  _I love you... marry me... can I see your tits_...  All I can hear is our breathing, as we smile nervously at each other, and music.

 

Wait, music?

 

*~*

 

"Where's that music coming from?"

 

"Hmm?  What?"  My mind is bit muddled at the moment.  Finally I hear the music he's talking about.  It's coming from the radio, the housekeeper must have turned it on; I explain this to Ron and a smile slowly spreads across his face.

 

"Dance with me," he says as he pulls me into his room.  _Our_ room.

 

I laugh as he twirls me before he gathers me to him and begins to sway.  We stay that way for several songs, dancing in front of the window with the lights of the city and the moon illuminating us.  I catch the occasional glimpse of our reflection and am heartened by how right we look together, how content we both seem to be in the other's arms.   "You know," he eventually whispers, causing that familiar tingle to return, "the memory of the last time we did this got me through some pretty tough times this past year."

 

I lift my head from its comfortable position on his chest, where I was enjoying the steady thrum of his heartbeat.  "Me too," I confess.

 

He runs his hand lovingly over my hair.  My stomach begins to flutter, as I know where we are headed, when suddenly...

 

"Ouch!"  My crazy, wild, refuses-to-behave hair has become tangled in his watchband.  As I struggle to release myself, I curse my unruly mop.  Ron reaches up and grasps my wrist.

 

"Hey, don't say such things about your hair.  It happens to be one of my favorite parts of you."

 

"Oh," is my articulate response.  I finally extricate myself and Ron starts to remove his watch.  I take hold of his arm and help him.

 

"I remember the first time I touched your hair, I was amazed at how soft it was."

 

"At Dumbledore's funeral," I comment.

 

"No."  I've managed to unclasp his watch and I look at him in confusion while I place it on the bedside table.  "It was... it was Second Year, when you were petrified."  He's obviously embarrassed, his ears are bright red.  I rub my thumb over his wrist that I'm still holding, offering encouragement for him to continue.  "I used to visit you... without Harry.  Sometimes I would stroke your head, like Mum always did when we were sick... it always made me feel better.  Thought maybe it might comfort you a little – not that you knew.  Kind of mental, I guess."

 

"Not mental – wonderful!"  I turn his hand over and kiss the back of it.  I run a finger gently over the freckles there, drawing random patterns.

 

"While we're confessing favorite parts, I've always loved your hands."  I notice some scars among the freckles and guiltily wonder how many of them were from canaries. 

 

"Really?" he asks, clearly amazed.

 

"Really.  I used to watch them all the time and wonder–" I stop myself; now it's my turn to be embarrassed.

 

"Wonder what?" Ron prompts gently. 

 

"What it would be like to hold them, be held by them... what they'd feel like, on my body."

 

"And?  How do they feel?"  The hand I'm not holding reaches around to rest low on my back, his long fingers grazing the top of my bum.

 

I bring his hand back to my mouth.  "They are even stronger," I kiss the back, "gentler," I kiss his palm, "and sexier than I ever imagined."

 

Suddenly his beautiful hands are tangled in my mess of hair and our lips are crashing together.

 

*~*

 

She called me sexy.  Hermione Granger, star of my wanking fantasies, just called _me_ sexy.  

 

Our mouths are busy kissing, licking – fuck! – even biting each other.

 

My hands are everywhere: in her hair, on her arse, squeezing her tits.

 

_Her_ hands are everywhere: scratching my back, on _my_ arse, undoing my buttons.

 

Undoing my buttons?  She's taking my shirt off!

 

I'm trying to control my breathing.  She puts her soft lips to each spot of my chest where she's just unbuttoned and I can feel my skin heating up as she kisses lower and lower.

 

She's opened my shirt all the way and is rubbing her hands over my stomach and up my chest – shit, it feels incredible.

 

Her short nails scratch over my nipples and I never knew anything could feel like that.

 

"Fuuuuuuuuuck."

 

Uh-oh, I think I said that out loud.  I close my eyes tight and wait for the inevitable scolding.  Only it doesn't happen.  Instead the unthinkable does – she giggles.

 

I cautiously open my eyes and look down to see Hermione smiling up at me.

 

"Like that, did you?" she asks.  Hell yeah, I liked it!

 

"Y-yeah," I manage to stammer.  "Uh, sorry... I, er, know you don't like crude language, but–"

 

"Shh," she says, kissing me quickly.  "There's a time and place for everything... justbe yourself.  Understand?"

 

Her thumbs play with my nipples and I hiss out my answer. "Yessssssss."

 

"Good."  She places a quick kiss over my heart and starts to push my shirt off my shoulders.  What the hell is she gonna think of this skinny freckled body of mine?

 

*~*

 

Oh. My. God.  I start to take his shirt off but can't even get it down his arms before I give in to my need to run my hands over his body.  

 

I've haven't had the opportunity to see Ron without a shirt, minus blood and a life threatening injury, that is.  The golden hairs spread across his chest fascinate me, growing thicker and darker as they trail down from his navel and disappear into his trousers.  His trousers ride ridiculously low, revealing hips bones peeking out and teasing me.  The muscles of his stomach feel so firm under my hands, I really can't get enough.

 

I can't resist his pink nipples, surrounded by a smattering of hair.  I'm mindful of his earlier reaction and wonder what he'd do if I put my mouth...

 

I think he just growled.  I can feel my own nipples tighten as I imagine him taking them into his mouth, flicking his tongue across them.  I finally look up at his impossibly blue eyes and find them filled with awe... tinged with something else. Nerves?  Fear?  The fact that he's as nervous as I am somehow emboldens me.  I push his shirt all the way off his shoulders and step around to help him remove it.

 

If possible, his back is even sexier than his front.  I've felt its strong muscles under my hands before – at Dumbledore's funeral, dancing at the wedding, cradling me at Shell Cottage, snogging on his bed.  But to see them in person...  I rub my hands over him, marveling at the movements of muscle under skin as I do; my thumbs dipping into the indentations just above his bottom, the ones I discovered for the first time moments ago.

 

I find I'm just the right height to bury my head between his shoulder blades.  The feel of his long hard body against mine is intoxicating.  I can feel his firm bottom and resist the urge to grab it; instead I wrap my arms around his waist and run my fingers through those tantalizing hairs.  I can feel him shudder under my touch and I smile into his back, oddly proud at being able to elicit such a reaction from him.

 

I'm fascinated by the patterns of freckles scattered on his pale skin and I have a strong desire to feel them under my mouth.  I again try to resist but realise – I don't have to; I no longer need to squelch my impulses when it comes to Ron.  

 

I pepper his strong back with kisses, discovering the spots that tickle and the ones that make him sigh.  I find a scar just above his waistband and wonder what happened and how many freckles were there that I'll never have the chance to kiss.  I run my tongue along the jagged white mark and hear a whimper – I think it's mine.

 

My hands travel up over his shoulders and down his strong arms.  My fingers find the deep indentation caused by that horrible splinching all those months ago, one more reminder of how close I came to losing him.  I lean forward and place an open mouth kiss over the scar and whisper my apologies.

 

"′S not your fault," he quietly replies.  He can tell me that a thousand times and I'll still not believe it.  I close my eyes and press my forehead to his arm, trying to erase the image of him covered in blood.  I open my eyes to see the tendrils of scars from those blasted tentacles.  I begin to trace them gently with my fingers, following their spiraling path.  More freckles I'll never kiss.

 

I move to stand in front of him again, so that I can follow the silver marks around his other arm.  The hairs on his arms are so light that they can barely be seen, even in the brightest of light, but I can feel them as I touch him, feel them standing on end.  I can hear his shallow breathing and swear I hear my own heart beating over the distant rhythms still playing on the radio.  I move my hands slowly from his arms to his chest, then further down to the button of his jeans.  I look up to his face for reassurance.  His large hands cover mine and he shakes his head slowly.  

 

"No."

 

*~*

 

Can't believe I just told her "no."  Standing here, having her touch me like this, has me aching to do the same to her.

 

I take her hands in mine and realise they're trembling.  She can't possibly think I don't want her, but the look of confusion and hurt in her eyes tells me differently.  I'd think one look at the front of my jeans would prove how much I want her.  I lift her hands to my mouth and kiss them, in what I hope is a reassuring way.

 

"It's my turn," I explain and she nods and sighs softly.

 

I raise her arms in the air and slowly run my hands down her arms until they reach her sides, watching as goose pimples appear all over her skin.  I slide my hands under her shirt, trying hard not to scare her or move too quickly.  I lift her top, revealing more and more skin until I finally pull it over her head.  Her arms are still raised in the air, and even though she is standing topless in front of me, all I can look at is her face.  Her eyes are closed, her long black lashes fluttering quickly, her cheeks flushed as she waits for my reaction.  Her lips are parted slightly, short little breaths going in and out – I have to taste them.

 

I put my hands on either side of her face and whisper, "You are so beautiful, Hermione."  I can feel her instantly relax as I kiss her softly.  As her tongue slides against mine, I fill my hands with her tits.  They're bigger then I realised; they're Hermione's and they're perfect.

 

Our kisses are growing hotter, she's sucking on my tongue and I can't help think about what it would feel like to have her suck my cock. 

 

My hands are around her back, holding her tight against me; the teasing feel of her naked stomach against mine just makes me want to feel more.  I find the hooky part of her bra again; I don't want to fuck this up by being my usual bumbling self.  Her hands reach back to help – Jesus Fuck!  

 

I pull her hands back down to her side; I wanna do this myself.  I whisper in her ear, "Turn around."  I feel her shiver just before she complies.  Her skin is so damn soft, and so light.  Not freakishly pale like mine, but almost see through and not covered in stupid freckles and scars.  Doesn't mean she doesn't have scars – I know she does – they just aren't as obvious.

 

Her hair hangs down her back, longest it's ever been I reckon.  Don't think she's cut it in over a year.  I pull it aside and lay it over her shoulder.  I spy a tiny freckle or mole or something hidden on the back of her neck, like a little hidden surprise just for me.  I hear her gasp when I press my lips to the spot.

 

I look at the clasp finally and feel silly at how easy it looks.  Just before I open it, I look up and meet Hermione's eyes in the reflection in the window.  "Is this all right?" I ask.

 

_pleasesayyespleasesayyes_

 

She nods and whispers, "Yes" in such a breathless voice it is all I can do to not spin her around, rip off the rest of our clothes and bury myself deep inside her.  Instead I concentrate on the hooks and slowly slip the straps off her shoulders until the bra falls to floor in front of her.  I look back up and see her tits – her perfect tits – reflected back at me.  I also see Hermione breathing deeply and I freeze for a moment, fascinated by the movement.  I move my hands around her stomach and they look ridiculous, so large and ugly against her tiny body.  She lays her hands over mine and moves them up – and suddenly my hands look perfect too.

 

Hermione sighs and leans back into me and I squeeze her tits and press my cock against her arse.  I don't care anymore, I want her.  I _need_ her.  She obviously feels the same; her hands have somehow reached around and are squeezing my arse, pushing me into her.  Wait, she's moving her hand...

 

Buggering Fuck!  She just grabbed my dick!

 

*~*

 

It's too much... I can feel him hard against my backside, twitching with barely constrained power.  Will I be able to feel him move like that when he's inside me?  

 

His hands on me feel amazing.  I know he's never touched another woman like this, yet he seems to know exactly what to do to bring me to my knees.  The way he kisses my neck as he twists and pulls at my nipples has me squeezing my thighs together to try to ease my ache.  

 

I need to touch him; I have to feel him under my hands.  I stretch my arms back and reach his bottom, but I need to feel more.

 

My hand barely has time to travel from his bum to his front before he spins me around and his mouth attacks me with ferocious urgency.  I give as good as I get.  

 

We're kissing, licking, and marking each other everywhere we can reach.  Ron almost looks comical as he stoops to take my breast in his mouth.  I tug gently on his hair to bring him back to standing.

 

"Uh, sorry..."  Why must he always think he's done something wrong?  

 

I push against his strong chest and force him to take a few small steps back, moving with him all the while, until his legs hit edge of the bed.  "Why don't you take a seat?"  He plops down and he is once again face to face with my chest – only this time without any barriers.  "That better?" I ask playfully.  "Mm-hmm," he manages to mumble before his mouth becomes otherwise occupied.

 

If I thought his hands were amazing, his mouth is even better.  He teases, he caresses, circling his tongue gently before sucking hungrily.  He says, "Your tits are fucking brilliant!" and I don't even think he realises he's said it out loud.  I've never seen Ron so enthralled before, not even on his first trip to Honeydukes.

 

Eventually his hands meet at the button of my trousers and he pulls back to look at me.  "This okay?"  I want to shout in frustration, 'Stop asking and just take me!' but I know now is not the time to get irritated.  He's as nervous as I am, and it really is quite endearing.  "Yes, please," I tell him instead.

 

Together we manage to get my trousers off and now I am standing before him in just my knickers.  His large warm hands run up the back of my legs, dipping under the hem of my pants to grab my bum.  I moan in appreciation and anticipation as his tongue swirls around my navel, then runs along the lace waistband.  My fingers are wrapped in his silky hair encouraging him.  I'm too far-gone to be embarrassed by the liquid I feel pooling between my legs when he places a kiss directly over my fanny before his tongue traces the edge of the fabric around my leg.

 

That's it.  I need him naked – NOW.

 

*~*

 

It's the 'please' that gets me.  I've been trying to hold myself in check, but when she said, "Yes, _please_ ," I knew all self-restraint was gone.  If she wants to stop, she'll have to tell me.  _Please don't stop me_ , I silently beg as I get two handfuls of her naked arse.

 

Her knickers are bloody fantastic.  Don't know why I always imagined Hermione wearing plain white ones, but these are light blue or green or something like that, with lace around the edges.  I can feel a tickle on the tip of my tongue from the hairs peeking out between her legs.  I wonder what she tastes like; I know she _smells_ fucking incredible.

 

Before I can take her knickers off and bury my face between her legs like I've been dreaming about for effing _years_ , she grabs my hands and pulls me to standing.  

 

"It's my turn," she says with a smirk, as she starts to unbutton my jeans.  I watch, stunned, as she lowers my zip and peels my trousers off.  She gets on her knees to pull my feet out of the legs and the sight of her, kneeling before me in just her knickers causes my cock to give an almost violent jerk.  That's when I realise exactly where her face is.

 

Fuck!  I hope I don't blow my load.  _Try to stay calm._

 

Not bloody likely.

 

*~*

 

Ron is standing in front of me in just his boxers.  I can see him straining against the front of his pants.  

 

I rub my hands up his long lean legs, over his muscular thighs until I reach the hem of his pants.  I slide under the fabric until my hands cover his tight bottom.  No, _his arse_ – my hands are on Ron Weasley's bare arse – and it feels incredible.  Firm and muscular and... perfect.  I wonder if the hairs I feel are the same barely there gold on his legs, or darker like what I see teasing me from his low-riding waistband.

 

I move to tug gently on the legs of his boxers, trying to take them off.  Rather than stop me, or question me yet again, Ron helps me lower them over his throbbing erection.  

 

I wasn't sure what to expect.  I figured he'd be uncut – and I'm right about that.  I just didn't realise he'd be so…so _big_.

 

I see a drop of liquid leaking from his tip and react on instinct; I lean forward to lick it off.  Ron lets out a low groan and his knees actually buckle.  I don't think I've ever felt more powerful.  I wrap my hand firmly around him, as best I can, and do it again.

 

"Holy fuck, Hermione."  His hands tangle in my hair and I'm not sure if he's trying to keep me in place or hold himself up.  I stroke my hand up and down his shaft, like I've imagined him doing countless times.  I'm fascinated by the way the skin moves to cover the head, then retracts again.  I look up to meet Ron's eyes and his hands tighten in my hair when I lick up his length before taking him into my mouth.  My hand and mouth work together to find a rhythm that soon has both Ron and me moaning.

 

As I speed up my motions, Ron grabs my shoulders and shouts, "Wait!"

 

*~*

 

After all these years of fantasies of Hermione sucking me off, I stop her.  I must be fucking mad.  

 

I lift her to her feet and pull her tight against me.  I know I've said it before but I have to tell her again, "You're amazing, you are."

 

I kiss her slow and deep.  My cock, still wet from her mouth, is pressed between us and throbbing for release.  My hands slide down to squeeze her arse and hers do the same to mine.  Is it possible she likes my arse as much as I like hers?  

 

When we break for air, she looks up at me confused and adorable.  "Why did you stop me?"

 

"I just didn't wanna... not like that, you know?"

 

"Oh, okay."  She looks relieved.  Did the barmy girl actually think I wasn't enjoying it?

 

"Do you wanna get in the bed or something?"  I can feel my ears burning as I ask. 

 

"Um... sure."  She pulls the covers down and crawls into the middle of the bed; I get a great view of her arse with her tits pointing down at the mattress.  I imagine myself behind her, pounding into her as she's on her hands and knees; I take my dick in hand and stroke it slowly.  I notice her watching me; when she licks her lips and asks, "Are you coming?" I almost do.

 

I lay down beside her.  I prop myself up on one arm and brush the hair back from her face with the other.  I trace my fingers along her cheek and down her neck, passing gently over her small scar courtesy of that bitch LeStrange, before kissing the spot lightly, running my tongue over that reminder of the worst moments of my life.  Paying attention to this mark has become a habit of mine – reminding myself what might have been.

 

My hand travels lower to cover her breast as I kiss my way to her mouth.  She's squirming beside me with a hand buried in my hair.  I can't help but thrust my hips up against her.  She pulls my hair and I lift my head to look at her, hoping she's not having second thoughts.

 

Panting, she says, "Please Ron, more... I need more."

 

More what?  What the fuck does she mean?  I twist her nipple a little harder but she takes my hand and guides it over her stomach and down to her knickers.  "Please," she says again.

 

Shit, I've NEVER done anything like this before.  I remember the other night, how she was rubbing herself so hard against me, so I decide to try something like that.  I press my hand down and rub it between her legs.  

 

Jesus!  I can feel how wet she is, but even I'm not a big enough twat to say anything about it.  I kiss her hard as she starts rocking her hips in time with my hand.

 

Oh God!  She's got her hand wrapped around my cock again, tugging it in rhythm with my strokes over her fanny.  We can't even kiss anymore, we're both panting and whimpering.  I'm so fucking close.  I look down and see her playing with her tits and I barely have time to say her name before I come.

 

*~*

 

I NEVER knew anything could feel this good.  

 

As wonderful as Ron's hand feels, I miss his attention on my breasts.  I no sooner tug at my nipple the way Ron had been doing when I hear him groan my name.  Suddenly my hand is covered with his thick warm semen.

 

"I'm so sorry," he mumbles.  "Let me get my–"

 

"It's all right."  I blindly reach my hand over to the bedside table, where Ron's wand is resting. I use it to quickly clean us, and then toss the wand aside.  I bring his hand back to my knickers. "Touch me," I ask.  

 

He slides his hand under my waistband and his long fingers make teasing passes through my damp hairs.  I don't think he means to tease, neither of us really know what we're doing at this point.  I honestly haven't had much opportunity for... _exploration_ , until very recently.  Ron's hands feel so much better than my own ever have.

 

I think they'll feel even better if I take my knickers off, so I do.

 

*~*

 

She just took her knickers off!  Hermione Granger is lying naked beside me.

 

Hermione Granger. Naked.

 

I am the luckiest fucking sod in the goddamned world.  I tell her that just before I graze my teeth over her right nipple.  I tell her I love her more than anything after I leave a love bite on her left tit.

 

I tell her I've never seen anything more beautiful than the sight of her spread out under me as I kiss a trail down her stomach.

 

I rub my fingers over what I hope is her clit.  When she starts to moan even louder, I confess it's always been her, always will be.

 

My finger slips inside her tight wet pussy and my mind goes blank.

 

*~*

 

Ron's hands and mouth are everywhere.  I can hear him murmur against my skin, all I can make out is "love... beautiful... always..." before my own moans drown him out.

 

He dips one of his long fingers inside me and I gasp at the feeling.  He starts to pull away, but my hips follow, urging him to continue.  He hesitantly moves in and out a few times.  It hurts a bit but somehow I don't mind.

 

Eventually his fingers move up and find the perfect spot.  "Right there!" I shout.

 

"There?"  He moves with a little more certainty.

 

"Yes... so good."

 

"Fucking _Hell_ , Hermione," he groans before latching onto my breast greedily.  One hand is clutching my breast, occasionally pulling at the nipple while the other continues its delicious torture between my legs.  I can't stop myself from moving my hips with his hand.  His finger goes back to move in and out a few times, even adding a second briefly at one point, all hesitancy gone.  He hits something deep inside me that makes me scream his name, which he answers with a deep growl.

 

His fingers return to rubbing frantically over my clitoris.  I can feel a tingling sensation that runs the length of my legs, meeting at my center.  I reach over my head to grab the pillow and thrash my head back and forth.  I can't imagine what I must look like to him.

 

*~*

 

Hermione is the sexiest thing I could ever imagine.  Her hair is wild and spread across the pillows, one of which she is clutching desperately.  She's tossing her head around while riding my hand and moaning my name.  Her bouncing tits and sopping wet pussy have me hard again; I'm rutting against her leg and hoping to God I don't come all over her again.

 

"Yes, Ron... so close!  Don't stop!"

 

Volde-fucking-mort himself couldn't get me to stop at this point.

 

She has a hand on my back and digs her nails in as she arches off the bed and moans my name and tells me she loves me.  

 

That. Was. Bloody. Brilliant.

 

I slow my hand and lighten my touch while moving in to kiss her deeply.  She's clawing at my back and wrapping her legs around me.  I can feel her wetness against my cock.  I look into her eyes and am shocked by the desire there.

 

"Hermione?"

 

*~*

 

"Don't you dare ask me if I'm sure, Ron Weasley," I practically snarl when he questions me.

 

I can't explain myself, articulate thoughts have fled my mind; all I know is I need him.

 

The git actually laughs.  "I just wanted to ask about, um, _protection_."

 

"Oh."  I lean up to kiss along his jaw, my tongue darting out to enjoy the salty taste of his skin.  "Don't worry... potion..." I explain between nips at his neck.  

 

"Mmmm, okay..." he says before kissing me passionately.  I open my legs and set my feet firmly on the mattress, pressing my pelvis up in invitation.

 

His one arm is shaking a bit as he leans on it while taking himself in hand with the other.  He groans when he looks down to see the head of his penis enter me.  The burn I feel lessens when he shifts his gaze to meet my eyes.

 

"I love you," he says quietly and with such sincerity, I can feel my eyes well with tears.

 

I smile, wanting him to know these are tears of joy, not pain.  "I love _you_ ," I reply, arching my body to take him all the way as he pushes forward.

 

I feel sore and stretched... but complete.  I look down to see the length of him disappear into my body, to where we are finally, undeniably, connected.

 

*~*

 

_fuckfuckfuckfuck_

 

She's so tight and so wet and so _warm_.  I didn't know it would be this warm inside her.  It's fucking incredible.  She's incredible.

 

God, I hope I'm not hurting her too bad.  I'm so fucking nervous. 

 

She looked like she was gonna cry but now she's smiling and panting, moaning in that totally sexy way of hers.    

 

I match her smile as best I can and move faster and faster.  I know that I'm not gonna last long, this feels too good.  She shifts her legs, hitching one up over my hip and I push myself even deeper.  

 

_Oh hell_.  Neither of us is smiling now.  Her eyes are closed and she's almost whimpering.  When she suddenly grabs a handful of my arse as she moans my name, I can feel myself losing it.

 

I bury my face in her neck and there, surrounded by her scent, I come harder than I ever have in my life.  I don't have the words to describe what just happened.  

 

*~*

 

I almost want to cry.  Not because it was painful or too short.  While it was a bit of both of those, it was also perfect.

 

Ron's breathing finally evens out and he pulls away to look at me.  He has the biggest smile I have ever seen and I can't help but return it.  I fall even more in love with him at this moment.

 

I feel a rush of liquid as he slowly withdraws and I feel oddly empty without him inside me.  Without saying anything, he reaches over and retrieves his wand, waves it over me and cleans me up.  I take the wand from him and do a quick healing spell.

 

"You okay?"  I answer with a reassuring smile and a quick kiss before tossing his wand on the bedside table.

 

He pulls up the covers and gathers me to him.  "C'mere."  

 

My head is resting over his heart and I don't think I've ever felt more comfortable.  His warm hand rubs my back, his touch light and teasing.

 

"That was..." He trails off, obviously at a loss for words.

 

"Lovely?" I suggest, looking up at him.

 

He laughs and kisses my head.  "I was thinking more like 'fucking amazing.'"

 

I slap his chest playfully.  "Honestly."  He captures my hand and kisses it before holding it to his chest.

 

" _Now_ you have a problem with my language?"

 

"No," I say, looking up at him.  "I just think there are better words to describe our, uh... first time."

 

"Like lovely?" he teases, rolling me over to my back and kissing my nose.

 

"Or brilliant even," I offer.  He shifts more of his body over me and kisses my neck.

 

"Yeah, brilliant works."  His tongue begins teasing flicks across my breast.  "I'll leave finding the right words up to you."  His kisses are getting lower and lower. 

 

A wet kiss to my upper thigh makes me sit up on my elbows in alarm.  He can't seriously be considering doing... _that_ , can he?  

 

"Ron?"

 

"Shh, it's my turn," he says, blue eyes dancing with a joy I haven't seen... well, ever.  I lie back down and just let myself feel.

 

And it feels… _fucking amazing_.

 


End file.
